King
by Elessar King
Summary: While riding in the forest, Arthur comes across something familar and very deadly. Can he get back to lead his people to victory? Story following Myth. Set after the movie. Non-slash. Updated: Chapter 2
1. King's Horse

Well, here's the next one. Before I start, this one does take place AFTER the movie. Unlike my other ones. But, haha, I don't think I could ever entirely write a story without Lancelot. So um, that's what this chapter is for basically, and you'll see. It'll pick up in the next chapter, sorry this one is so short, but I wanted to introduce stuff and get them lost LOL. Ok, enjoy.

Chapter 1 – King's Horse

The field before the fort looked exactly the same as it had before the battle of Badon Hill. Where it had been burnt, the grass had grown back and it didn't even seem as if there had been a battle there. Everyone that lived there knew different, but in the morning sun of that day, they could forget for a moment the bodies buried beneath the earth.

Artorius Castus Pendragon, titled the King of Britain for uniting all of the people under one banner to defeat the Saxons, rode out on the old battlefield. He often went for a ride in the morning as long as the weather held up (and even sometimes if it didn't), but never too far. In fact, for sometime the others, Guinevere included, objected to it, saying that it was too dangerous for someone of his importance to be out alone. Eventually, they found this wouldn't stop Arthur.

The morning air was cool, he was glad to be out today. A fine mist had settled over the field, making it look slightly like smoke still clinging to the dew-covered grass. Not only was it a beautiful morning, but Arthur was glad to be out riding in it.

He had been training and working with his new horse for sometime, the animal was becoming a very fine horse. Hadrian had grown much too old for anything but very simple rides and Prime Snowfall was found among the dead after the battle of Badon Hill. But it was time to move on. Lancelot's horse, Conquest, had been retired to the stable to breed with some of the mares. His first son was a black foal with a thin white stripe down his face. The colt seemed too little to amount to anything, but it was Arthur who picked him out personally. It was that horse which he rode now; far bigger and more powerful than the runt-sized colt he had been.

There was something else about this horse. Arthur had picked Hadrian when he was barely a month old because the horse had "intelligent eyes" as he described it. This new horse had a bit more than that.

They came upon a place that Arthur knew dearly, despite how it had changed from that bloody day. The horse slowed down, snorted loudly and then stopped, raising one of his front hooves off of the ground, pawing the air. Arthur slide off, his boots crunching on the grass. He crouched, reaching out with his right hand to touch the wet earth. Letting out a sigh, Arthur closed his eyes. It had been a long time since they had stopped here. It had been a long time, but it had never gone forgotten.

A snort from his horse brought Arthur's attention back to the present. The animal plodded over, nuzzling his other hand gently. He was anxious to continue their ride, but know that his rider would probably want to stop here. Arthur looked up at him and smiled sadly. "You're right," he said, standing up, "Let's go, Lancelot."

* * *

Man and horse rode away from the field towards the forest. Lance allowed himself to pick up an easy lope. He had the power and grace of his sire, Conquest, and a streak of stubbornness that Arthur found was much like his namesake. It always made the Roman wonder – he knew his knights believed that when great warriors die, they return as great horses. A superstition; a simple legend. Yet it had been Arthur who had named the horse after his fallen friend, there had been something familiar…

The forest was mostly quiet that morning. A few birds sang, but not as many as usual. The horse didn't seem at all bothered by it, trotting along quite contently. Arthur, however, it seemed a little too unusual. Too many time had that meant something was off in the woods, something was going to happen. Lance didn't seem concerned, but of course, he was still green concerning matters such as this. But it wasn't entirely quiet. In fact, there was lots of life to be seen. Arthur let out a deep breath and relaxed, it was nothing.

It didn't take long for the fog to descend. It had blanketed the field first and then attached to the forest. At first, it was so light that it didn't really matter, but it quickly became thicker. Arthur pulled Lance to a stop, his brow creased as he looked around the muted forest. The horse snorted and chewed at his bit impatiently.

"I know," Arthur said to him, patting his neck, "We'll go in a minute, it's just…"

He knew they hadn't ridden that far and if they turn straight around, they should be able to head back. Or had they made too many turns on the way to this point? It was almost like it was a completely different forest.

Arthur sighed, "Let's head back, before Galahad gets too impatient and comes looking for us."

Lance knickered softly and nodded his head, his feathery mane tossing about his neck. They turned around and headed straight. It wouldn't be the first time Arthur had been caught in the fog like this. In fact, he remembered, Lancelot was the one who got them lost…the man-..not the horse.

The fog didn't lift and the forest continued when it should have stopped. "Did you get us lost again?" Arthur whispered half heartedly to the horse, who made no response. It would be midday now and if they truly were riding the wrong way, it would be a long ride back.


	2. King's Revelation

Whoo! Sorry that took so long… sigh school was being evil. Well, this chapter is going to give the conflict for the rest of the story, so it's finally longer than the other one. And yes, the horse is named Lancelot haha because I could never really leave him out of anything. So technically…he's still there. That and..well, you'll see at the end. Hmm..what else. That's about it I think. I'm not entirely sure when I'll have the next chapter up, I'm reading three books and studying fiercely in Latin, but after Valentine's Day the book load will go down (whoo! No more Machiavelli!), so it'll be better than. Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 2 – King's Revelation

The fog still hadn't lifted in several hours. Lance didn't seem too concerned, in fact he seemed a little cocky about being out by himself. His rider however, knew better. There was something off still, Arthur didn't like it. He was also pretty sure they were riding in the wrong direction, but wouldn't be able to tell until the fog lifted.

Arthur was right, there was something off in the woods. Something approached them, slowly.

The sight was a familiar one. Ragged, barbaric men wrapped in animal skins with big round shields. Long blond hair flowed out from their helmets. They were terrifying to look upon. Cerdic had failed, but the island would not go unconquered. A smaller force was deployed ahead of the main Saxon forces. They were to find out all they could about those who remained now that the Romans had left.

Their ships had landed in the south, word had not yet reached Hadrian's Wall of the new Saxon force. And it would not until they would come upon the fort, with all of it's inhabitance unprepared. That was the plan, they were to find out all they could about the resistance. Then they would send back word to the main force to start the full out attack, instead of charging head on. They would not make the same mistake a second time.

Movement was slowed through the obscured forest. The ranks were scattered. Walking towards the front was a man who appeared to tower over the others. He had an ominous look, brought on by a scar that traced down the right side of his face, barely missing his eye. The large sword he carried over his shoulder, unsheathed, marked him as the leader.

The company halted, whispers and mutters arose towards the other side of the ranks. The man creased his brow, stalking over towards the noise. "What is it?" Atelic growled to an even bigger man.

"Someone up ahead, a man on a horse," the other Saxon answered.

Atelic's eyes lit up, "Take him, he may know of the fort." He paused a moment as the other started walking away. "Derian," Atelic called after him, "Use necessary force, but keep him alive."

* * *

Lance was the first to hear them coming. His ears stood straight forward, his whole body still. The young horse standing alert was a sight to behold, much like his sire, Conquest. 

Arthur touched his mount's neck, the message was unspoken, _what do you hear? _The woods were silent again, ominously so. And Arthur saw no shapes in the fog before he heard footsteps moving across the forest floor. Lancelot snorted and when Arthur told him to go forward, it was too late.

Something jumped on Lance's back, grabbing Arthur, trying to pull him off. But the green horse that he was, Lance squealed, suddenly rearing and trying to get rid of the unwanted intruder. His rider struggled to stay on, but as soon as the horse's position moved, the man succeeded and they both tumbled off.

Arthur landed on top, but the tables were quickly turned when the attacker flipped over, trying to secure the large Roman, who finally got his first glimpse of the man. Saxon. He struggled harder to get loose, but suddenly a boot connected with his head. For a moment, he lay there as the world spun, trying to regain his balance. Another force came on top of him and Arthur felt himself being pulled up. He shouted, struggling fiercely again. It took three men to restrain him.

Derian walked around in front, twirling a stick in his hand. An amused grin crossed his face at the struggling prisoner. With a swift stroke, he whacked the stick across Arthur's ribs. "Stop squirming," the Saxon grumbled. The Roman glared up at him, but said nothing, biting his lip. Derian grabbed his face to look at him like a trader looks at a slave. "Take him to Atelic," he sneered.

Behind them a squeal from the horse took Arthur's attention from glaring down the Saxons. _"Lancelot!"_ he shouted. The horse snorted, backing away from the approaching strangers. Arthur stopped struggling and instead stared straight into the horse's dark eyes. _"Lancelot, stop. It's alright."_

The Saxons trying to catch Lance glanced back at Arthur and watched as the horse slowly backed down in response to the strange language spoken by their prisoner. One of them shouted back to Derian, "What of the horse?"

"Use him for supplies," the second in command replied.

* * *

Atelic circled around the prisoner sitting on the ground, his wrists and ankles bound to prevent him from escaping. "What is your name, huh?" he asked, speaking the language he knew the man would understand. But Atelic received no answer from Arthur. Sighing exasperatedly, the large Saxon crouched down in front of him; Arthur's gaze was fixed on the ground , avoiding the eyes of Atelic. "Tell me your name." 

Arthur knew the Saxons weren't aware of who he was, at least these Saxons. If they did, surely he'd be dead already. He had a choice now, there were always several options, even if many of them have very unwanted outcomes. But he could stay…at least until he knew enough and then escape back to the fort. No one had any idea of the Saxons approaching.

"Do not try my patience," Atelic said through his teeth, "What is your name?" Arthur finally looked up at him as the Saxon drew his dagger, holding the tip to touch Arthur's throat. "I have no reason to keep you alive, but I will if you tell me of the fort and guide us there."

The Roman's grey eyes didn't change, he feared no death. "Now tell me your name," the Saxon said, frustration evident in his voice.

"My name is Castus," Arthur said at last, giving the Saxon only what he needed to know.

Atelic didn't remove the dagger still aimed at Arthur's throat, the point of the blade making a small imprint in his flesh, but not drawing blood, "And?"

"I don't know of the fort," he replied seriously, "I've never been there."

"No," growled Atelic, "You're Roman, you do know where it is. Which direction?"

Arthur sighed reluctantly. He had to make this believable. "West," he whispered.

"Louder," Atelic lifted his head slightly, looking down his nose at his prisoner, grinning at making him betray his people.

"West.." Arthur replied louder, casting his eyes down away from Atelic, "West of here."

The Saxon smirked. "How does it feel to be a traitor?" he asked, withdrawing the dagger. "You might as well tell me the rest since you've started now, Castus."

Arthur lowered his head. In reality, he was trying to think of what to say next, but to the scar-faced Atelic, it looked like defeat.

"You're a Roman, I thought your kind left. Are there others?"

Arthur shook his head wordlessly.

"What kind of guard is there on the fort then."

It would be too easy if he answered so soon. Arthur swallowed hard; this was going to hurt, this Saxon seemed to be quick to anger. Preparing himself for the pain to come, Arthur said nothing.

"What guard, Castus," Atelic stood up, towering over his prisoner. When again there was no answer, he grew impatient. The Saxon growled, "You will tell me."

Nothing.

Atelic kicked him in the ribs, where Derian had hit him early, knocking Arthur on his back. Grinning menacingly, the Saxon put his foot on Arthur's chest, pressing down until the Roman started coughing from the weight on his lungs. "Well?"

"Locals…" Arthur coughed, "No one…important…"

Atelic let off, kicking Arthur's already bruised ribs even harder this time. Arthur's vision went black around the edges and seemed to close in around him with the pain. He was fairly sure his ribs were broken now, it wouldn't be the first time. Squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur rolled onto his other side, curling up as tight as he could bare to avoid being kicked again.

He didn't notice Atelic stalking off, leaving a few men around to watch him and make sure he didn't escape. As the sun went down, the fog started to lift as grey clouds took its place in the sky. Lancelot stood nearby, his lead tied to a tree, watching his rider still laying curled up on the ground, unmoving. The horse snorted loudly and pawed at the ground. _What have you gotten us into this time, Arthur?_


End file.
